The Odyssey

  That's my order to the young men. As for you others,

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  you sceptered princes, come on up to my beautiful dwelling,

  so we can entertain the stranger as guest in our halls,

  and let no man refuse me! Also fetch the divine minstrel,

  Demodokos: for to him the god's granted an unmatched gift

  of song, to please, however his spirit may bid him sing."

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  That said, he led the way, and the sceptered princes followed,

  while a herald went off to fetch the divine minstrel,

  and the chosen youths, two and fifty of them, obeyed

  his orders, and made their way to the unharvested sea,

  and when they reached the ship and the sea, they hauled

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  the black vessel down to deep water, and in its black hull

  proceeded to step the mast, to set the sails, and secure

  the oars to the leather straps of the rowlocks, all in due order.

  This done, they spread the white sail, then anchored the vessel

  well out in deep water. This done, they took themselves off

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  to the great abode of sagacious Alkinoos. There they found

  all the courtyards and colonnades and chambers crowded

  with the many guests that had gathered, both young and old.

  For them Alkinoos slaughtered a dozen sheep and eight

  white-tusked boars and a couple of shambling oxen: these

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  they skinned and dressed, and made ready a delectable feast.

  Now the herald returned, bringing the trusty minstrel,

  whom the Muse loved dearly, but gave him both good and ill:

  she robbed him of eyesight, yet made him a sweet singer.

  The herald Pontonoos set him a silver-studded chair

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  amid the feasters, leaned it against a tall pillar,

  hung the clear-toned lyre from a peg up over his head,

  and instructed him how to find it with his hands: so far

  the herald. Beside him he placed a basket and fine table,

  along with a cup of wine to drink from when so minded.

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  Now they reached out their hands to the good things ready for them;

  but when they had satisfied their desire for food and drink

  the Muse stirred the minstrel to sing of the famous deeds of men

  from that lay the fame of which had reached the wide heavens--

  the quarrel between Odysseus and Peleus' son, Achilles,

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  how once they contended at a sumptuous feast of the gods

  with vehement words, and the king of men, Agamemnon,

  was glad at heart that the best Achaians were in contention,

  for thus Phoibos Apollo had told him, when giving a response

  in sacred Pytho, after he'd crossed the threshold of stone

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  to enquire of the oracle: then it was that the start of trouble

  came rolling on Trojans and Danaans on account of great Zeus' plans.

  This theme the famous minstrel chose. But Odysseus

  took his great purple mantle in his powerful hands

  and pulled it down over his head, to hide his handsome face,

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  ashamed to be shedding tears before the Phaiakians.

  Every time the divine minstrel had a pause in his singing

  Odysseus would wipe off the tears, lift the mantle from his head,

  take a two-handled cup and pour a libation to the gods;

  but when he began again--the Phaiakian nobles would urge him

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  to sing more, for they took great pleasure in his lays--

  then Odysseus would once more cover his head and sigh.

  His weeping escaped the notice of all the others; only

  Alkinoos was aware of it and took notice, since he sat

  beside him, and could hear his heavy sighing. At once

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  he addressed himself to the Phaiakians, oar-lovers all:

  "Listen, you leaders and counselors of the Phaiakians:

  by now we've slaked our desire for the shared banquet

  and the lyre that's the accompaniment to ample feasting;

  now let's go out and make trial in every kind of athletic

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  contest, so that this stranger may tell his friends,

  when he gets back home, how far we outstrip other men

  in boxing and wrestling, in jumping and running."

  That said,

  he led the way, and they followed him. On its peg

  the herald hung up the clear-toned lyre, and took

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  Demodokos by the hand, led him out of the hall

  and followed the same road just taken by the other

  Phaiakian nobles to watch the contests. They went

  to the place of assembly: a large throng accompanied them,

  countless in number; there stood up many fine young men.

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  Up got Akroneos, Okyalos and Elatreus,

  Nauteus and Prymneus, Anchialos and Eretmeus,

  Ponteus and Proreus, Thoon and Anabesineos,

  with Amphialos, the son of Polyneos, Tekton's son;

  up, too, Euryalos, peer of man-killing Ares,

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  Naubolos' son, the best in looks and stature--

  bar only peerless Laodamas--of all the Phaiakians;

  and up got the three sons of matchless Alkinoos:

  Laodamas, Halios, and godlike Klytoneos.

  These then first made trial of themselves in the footrace:

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  the pace was hot from the start, they all raced together,

  speedily kicking up the dust from the plain; but of them

  peerless Klytoneos proved by far the swiftest runner,

  and by the length of the furrow mules plow in fallow land

  he got back first to the crowd, well ahead of all the rest.

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  Then they competed in the painful art of wrestling,

  and here Euryalos outdid all the best competitors;

  at jumping Amphialos had no rivals in the field,

  while with the discus Elatreus was an easy winner,

  and at boxing Laodamas, Alkinoos' splendid son.

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  But after they'd all enjoyed these athletic contests,

  Laodamas, Alkinoos' son, had this to say to them:

  "Come, friends, let us ask the stranger if there's any contest

  that he knows and has practiced. In build he's not a weakling--

  look at his thighs and calves, both arms above them,

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  his sturdy neck: great strength there! He's not lacking

  in manly vigor, but just broken by many misfortunes:

  for to my mind there's nothing worse than the sea

  to break down a man, even though he be the strongest."

  Then Euryalos in turn responded to him, saying:

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  "Laodamas, what you propose is rightly spoken!

  Go challenge him now yourself, tell him what you told us."

  When Alkinoos' good son heard this, he went and stood

  in the midst, and addressed Odysseus as follows, saying:

  "Come on, stranger, father: you too should try these contests

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  if haply you're skilled in any: and it's likely that you are

  so skilled, for a man's life can show no greater glory

  than what he achieves with his own hands and feet.

  So come, make trial of yourself, scatter care from your heart!

  Your journey won't long be delayed now, already your ship

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  is hauled down and launched, your companions all are ready."

  Then resourceful Odysseus responded to him, saying:

  "Lao
damas, why do you make me this mocking challenge?

  My mind is far fuller of sorrows than of contests:

  Before now I have suffered much, endured much hardship;

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  now here in your assembly I sit, and seek my homecoming,

  making my plea to your king and to his people as a whole."

  Euryalos then replied, taunting him to his face:

  "No, indeed, stranger, you don't look to me like a man

  familiar with contests, such as mankind has in plenty;

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  you're more the sort that goes to and fro with his many-

  oared vessel, a captain of sailors who also are traders,

  taking care of his freight, an overseer of cargo

  and gain got by greed. You don't look to me like an athlete."

  With an angry glance, resourceful Odysseus responded:

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  "Sir, that was not well said; you sound like some reckless

  badmouth! It's true that the gods don't hand out gracious

  gifts to all men, of either looks, or wit, or eloquence: one man

  will make a less impressive appearance, and yet

  the god crowns his speech with grace, people regard him

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  with admiring pleasure, his utterances are sure,

  respectful and honey-sweet: he stands out in a crowd,

  and as he goes through the city, men look on him as a god.

  Another may be as handsome as the immortals, but

  no crown of grace will be set on his public speaking--

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  and so with you: your looks are outstanding, not even

  a god could improve them, but in mind you're inadequate.

  You've provoked the heart in my breast by your mannerless

  mode of address: I'm no novice at sporting contests

  as you assert--no, I reckon I ranked among the first

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  while I could safely trust in my vigor and my hands;

  but now trouble and grief possess me: much I've endured,

  cutting my path through men's wars and the damaging waves.

  Yet despite my great suffering I'll make trial of your contests,

  for your words gnaw at my heart, what you said drives me on."

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  So saying, he sprang up, still in his mantle, and seized

  a stone quoit--one bigger, thicker, and weightier by far

  than those the Phaiakians used to compete against each other.

  This he whirled about and let fly from his mighty hand,

  and the stone whirred: down they crouched on the ground,

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  did the long-oared Phaiakians, men famous for their ships,

  beneath the stone's flight. Past the marks of all it flew,

  fast sped from his hand, and Athene--in the likeness of a man--

  checked the length of the cast, and then addressed him, saying:

  "Even a blind man, stranger, could distinguish this cast of yours

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  by feeling for it: it's not mixed up with the rest but well

  ahead of them all. This contest at least should encourage you--

  No Phaiakian will equal your cast, much less get past it."

  So she spoke. Much-enduring godlike Odysseus rejoiced,

  glad to have met with a friendly supporter at these contests.

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  Then, in a lighter mood, he spoke among the Phaiakians:

  "Match that cast now, young men! I'll soon let fly another,

  its equal in length, or maybe an even longer shot!

  As for the rest of you, if anyone's heart and spirit

  so bids him, come on, let him try me, since you've got me angry--

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  boxing, wrestling, or running, I don't care which,

  any Phaiakian, except for Laodamas in person,

  he being my host: who'd fight the one that befriended him?

  Witless the man and worthless that would ever challenge

  to a contest the host who gave him a kindly welcome

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  in some foreign country: he'd cut all his own hopes short!

  But of the rest there's none I either refuse or slight:

  I want to learn their strength, to test myself against them.

  For I'm no slouch all round in the contests that men practice--

  well do I know how to handle a polished bow,

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  and always I'd be the first to shoot and hit my man

  in the thick of the enemy, though many of my comrades

  were standing beside me, loosing off arrows at the foe.

  Philoktetes alone it was who excelled me at archery

  in the land of the Trojans, when we Achaians were shooting!

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  Of the rest I can claim to be the best by far

  of all mortals that now eat bread upon this earth,

  though I have no wish to compete with those of former times,

  with Herakles or Oichalian Eurytos, such men

  as competed in marksmanship even with the immortals.

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  For that was why great Eurytos died young, why no old age

  caught up with him in his halls: Apollo, furious, slew him

  because he'd challenged the god to an archery contest. What's more,

  I can throw a spear further than any man can shoot an arrow!

  In the footrace alone I fear I may be outrun by some

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  Phaiakian: I've been harshly battered by countless waves,

  and aboard my ship I had no long-term care for my body,

  which is why my limbs are now very badly out of trim."

  So he spoke, and they all remained hushed in silence. Only

  Alkinoos made him an answer, addressed him saying:

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  "Stranger, your words here among us were not ungracious,

  but due to your wish to make clear your innate prowess--

  being angered, because that man confronted you in this contest

  and mocked you, in a way no mortal who was aware

  of how to speak fittingly would disparage your prowess.

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  So come now, give heed to my words, that you may tell them

  to some other hero, when in your own great hall

  you're feasting, together with your wife and children,

  and recall our feats, the achievements that to us too

  Zeus has constantly granted since the days of our fathers.

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  Now we're not unmatched as boxers, or as wrestlers, but in

  the footrace we run swiftly; we're the best of seamen,

  and dear to us always are feasting, and dancing, and the lyre,

  and changes of clothes, hot baths, and bed. So come,

  all you Phaiakians who are our finest dancers,

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  foot it gaily, so that the stranger may report to his friends,

  after getting back home, how far we surpass all others

  in seamanship, fleetness of foot, and dancing and singing!

  And let someone go at once and fetch for Demodokos

  the clear-toned lyre that's lying somewhere in our halls."

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  So spoke godlike Alkinoos, and the herald got up

  to go fetch the hollow lyre from the king's domain.

  Then nine umpires arose, all chosen by popular vote,

  whose job was to regulate every detail of the games.

  They leveled a dancing floor, cleared a fine open space,

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  and the herald approached, bringing the clear-toned lyre

  for Demodokos, who then went to the middle, and round him

  stood young men in youth's first bloom, well skilled at dancing,

  and performed the steps of the sacred dance. Odysseus,

  marveling, watched the flash of their feet as they moved.


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  Demodokos now struck his lyre to introduce the fine lay

  about Ares' love for sweet-garlanded Aphrodite1--

  how they first lay together in the house of Hephaistos,